Presently Perfect (Perfect #3)

by Alison G. Bailey

  One hour turned into two, turned into three. By the time we headed into the fourth hour, Tweet looked completely exhausted. The pain ebbed and flowed. She got a breather for fifteen or twenty minutes and then the process started again. She’d moan in pain, then scream as it intensified, and then convulse several times before the pain let up.

  As the sun came up, the pain seemed to subside. I still cradled Tweet in my arms, rubbing her back. Her head rested on my chest. Both our eyes were closed. I was just about to drift off to sleep when the door opened and Emily stepped in.

  “Noah, I think she’s asleep now. Why don’t you go home and try to do the same.”

  “I’m fine,” I mumbled.

  “You look exhausted.”

  “I’m not leaving her, Emily.”

  She didn’t force the issue. The next sound I heard was the click of the door as it closed. My arms tightened around Tweet as she nuzzled deeper into my side and we fell into a peaceful sleep.

  On Christmas day we all gathered at Emily’s place to exchange gifts and have dinner. When I agreed to spend Christmas with Brooke, I didn’t consider Mom, and the fact that this would be the first Christmas without Dad. My focus was so wrapped up in Tweet that everyone else took second place. I felt like a complete jackass being so inconsiderate. I made the mistake of telling Brooke I had to back out while we were at my house one day. Mom overheard and insisted, in front of Brooke, that I go. She wanted me to live my life and not worry. She said the Kellys would take good care of her.

  I’d been glued to Tweet’s side almost constantly since her surgery. Even though she let me take care of her, I knew the friend zone rules were still intact. It was harder than ever staying within the boundaries when she’d look at me with vulnerable eyes or clung to my body as if I were her lifeline. I wanted to say how much I loved her, but I was afraid if I did, she’d push me away.

  Wine was poured and gifts were exchanged before dinner. Mom, Mrs. Kelly, and Emily retreated to the kitchen to put the final touches on the meal while Mr. Kelly went to open another bottle of wine. I was finally alone with Tweet.

  She was in her wheelchair, parked at the other end of the sofa. Leaning to the side, I reached in my pocket and grabbed the small black velvet box.

  Scooting down the sofa, I sat next to her and held the box up. “There’s one more gift. Merry Christmas, Tweet.”

  Her gaze bounced from the box to my eyes. “Noah, you and your mom already gave me a gift. The cashmere sweaters were from both of you.”

  “Yeah, my mom picked those out. Today was the first time I’d seen them.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get you anything.” Her head tilted down.

  Placing my finger under her chin, I raised her beautiful face, and smiled. “Would you shut up and open the box?”

  She lifted the hinged lid. Her face lit up in disbelief when she saw the pair of yellow diamond stud earrings. Her mouth literally dropped open, no sound coming from it. She looked up at me, stunned.

  “I take it you like them?” I smirked.

  “I don’t know what to say. These cost too much.”

  “Do you like them?”

  “I love them.” Her smile widened.

  “Seeing your smile made them totally worth it.”

  Tears quickly filled Tweet’s eyes. She attempted to hold the corners of her mouth up, but the tremble of her bottom lip was overpowering, causing her smile to crash. As we stared, that familiar crackle of electricity passed between us, except there was something different this time. Our connection felt even deeper than before. Some couples crumbled under the pressure of facing any difficulty while others create an unbreakable bond. Tweet and I may not have fit the technical definition of a couple, but we were in this together.

  I had no clue what was rattling around in that beautiful head of hers. The look she gave conveyed love and drove me crazy. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I needed to touch those lips. If she had a problem with it, I’d blame it on whatever crap I could come up with, the emotions of the holidays or mistletoe tradition. I inched my way forward. She didn’t stop me. I leaned in more. Still had the green light. My head tilted. Warm breaths mixed. Eyes fluttered closed and…

  “Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Kelly yelled from the kitchen.

  Fuck me!

  Startled, I jumped back, breaking the spell.

  I cleared my throat and said, “I better get going.”

  “You’re not staying to eat?”

  “I’m having dinner with… um… Brooke and her parents.”

  Brooke had texted me five times in the past hour making sure I was still coming.

  Disappointment washed over Tweet’s face. My eyes fell to the floor. I couldn’t look at her. She was hurt and I was the cause. This was the first time since the surgery that I was leaving her and it felt wrong. We had spent pretty much every minute together for the past week and I still craved more time with her. Hollow emptiness spread from my chest to the pit of my stomach. I glanced up and caught her wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

  Cupping her face, my thumbs ran over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Why are you crying?”

  Tweet choked out, “I’m just tired and the holidays make me sentimental.”

  She forced a smile.

  “You want me to push you to the table?”

  “No. I’ll do it in a minute.”

  I let my hands fall from her face, but hesitated before standing. “You call me if you need anything.” She nodded. “Merry Christmas, Tweet.”

  I love you so damn much.

  “Merry Christmas, Noah.”

  After tearing myself away from Tweet, I said goodbye to the others. As I walked from the condo I had the strangest feeling that the bubble Tweet and I had created over the past week was about to burst.

  The Douglases were pretentious people. They were polite and nice in a fake way, as if they were doing you a huge favor by bestowing some of their valuable time on you. I knew the second I walked through the front door of Brooke’s house, I would be having a huge platter of awkward with my Christmas dinner. Actually, awkward would have been better than what was served.

  The dress code for the evening—a dark suit and tie for Mr. Douglas, a green sparkly dress for Mrs. Douglas, and a tight red dress with matching red heels for Brooke. I, on the other hand, was not dressed appropriately in my navy sweater and jeans, as indicated by the horror on Mrs. Douglas’s face when she first laid eyes on me.

  Dinner was catered and involved some unidentifiable food, which was brought out in separate courses by uniformed help. I missed my mom’s sweet potato casserole, Mrs. Kelly’s dressing, and Tweet. I excused myself several times so I could text her from from the bathroom. They must have been busy having fun because she never responded.

  I pushed the mystery food around my plate, hiding as much of it under the slice of ham while pretending to listen to Mr. Douglas drone on about his job as an investment banker. After the boring dinner we moved into the living room where the subject of my future plans and intentions with Brooke were the topic of discussion. The disapproving look on Mrs. Douglas’s face at my choice of wardrobe vanished when I told them I was going into medicine. I wanted to tell them, as far as my intentions, the only one I had at the moment was to get the hell out of there. Instead, I skirted around the issue. After an hour-long interrogation, I was able to make my great escape.

  Brooke hugged my arm as we walked out to my truck.

  “So, do you really like your Christmas gift?” She beamed up at me.

  “Yeah.”

  Brooke’s gift to me was a stadium seat dog tag and chain. It was similar to the one Tweet had given me when we graduated high school, except it was made from a Dodger Stadium seat. I didn’t even like the Dodgers.

  “You wear the other one all the time. I figured you’d like to change it up and try something new.”

  No.

  “I really appreciate it.”

  Once at my truck,
I broke away from Brooke’s hold. She stepped forward, positioning herself in front of me.

  “I love my scarf,” she said, playing with the edge of the material.

  The other day when Mom asked me what I had gotten Brooke for Christmas, I was caught off guard. I had thought about it, but never got around to actually getting her a gift. Lucky for me my mom always buys a few spare gifts just in case.

  “I’m glad. It looks nice on you.”

  I needed to break things off with Brooke. I fooled myself into believing I could have something special with her. She wasn’t a bad person. She had her bitchy moments, but who doesn’t. Before we met, she had already planned out her future, which included being the wife of a doctor, a lawyer, or the CEO of a huge company. Brooke liked status. She was accustomed to a certain type of lifestyle and wanted it to continue. Everything was decided, all she needed was a guy to fill the role of husband. The idea of me was more appealing than me, the person. I’d wait until the holidays were over to end things. I was a crappy boyfriend, but not heartless. I wasn’t going to break up with her on Christmas.

  I leaned in, placing a light kiss on her forehead before reaching for the handle of the door.

  “Noah, I want to apologize for the other day at Carter’s place. I didn’t mean to fly off the handle like that. It felt like I walked in on something. My imagination ran wild and I acted like a jealous girlfriend.”

  “Brooke…”

  She stepped in closer, placing her hands on my chest. “After I cooled down, I understood why you wanted to spend so much time with her. You’re going to be an orthopedic surgeon, so naturally her situation was interesting to you.”

  With my eyebrows furrowed, I looked down, annoyed at her assumption. “She’s my best friend. My interest had nothing to do with career choice.”

  “Well, of course your friendship was a part of it. But now that the whole amputation thing is over and done with, you can back off. Let the family be her support. I’m sure they want to spend as much time with her as possible.”

  I curled my fingers around her wrist, removed her hands from my chest, and took a step back. “What are you getting at? Tweet’s going to survive this.”

  “That’s what we’re all praying for. I just figured the respectful thing to do would be to give them time, just in case…”

  “There isn’t going to be a just in case.”

  “Look, I don’t want to argue on Christmas.”

  “Then we need to get off this subject.”

  “Okay.” She moved back into my personal space. “If you’re staying at Carter’s tonight, I can join you. I’ll tell my parents I’m staying over at Sandra’s. She’ll cover for me.”

  “I’m going home tonight. I don’t want to leave my mom alone for long being that it’s the first holiday without Dad.”

  “Oh yeah. That’s right.”

  Rolling up on her toes, she kissed my lips. I pulled away at her attempt to deepen it.

  Stepping back, she said, “Want to have lunch tomorrow?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  It wasn’t that late when I left Brooke’s, so I headed to Tweet’s, hoping to catch her awake. I drove up to see the condo in darkness. My heart sank a little. I missed her more than usual in the past few hours and wanted to end my day seeing her beautiful face. Since all the lights were out, I hoped that meant she was resting and not having phantom pain that was always worse at night. She got some relief when we wrapped her stump tightly with an ACE bandage. To distract her mind from focusing on the pain, I rubbed her back while playing Remember When. It was a game we made up while she was in the hospital. Each sentence started with the words remember when, then you give of couple of clues to see if the other person guessed the event. It was silly, but fun thinking back on all great times we shared, and it made Tweet smile, which was the goal.

  While sitting in my truck, staring at Tweet’s window, Brooke’s words played in my head.

  Just in case.

  I convinced myself that when those thoughts flashed through my mind it was fear getting the best of me. Only when someone else brought up the possibility of Tweet not surviving did it become real to me.

  Please God, I’ll do anything you need, just don’t take her away from me.

  Me: Mornin’ Tweet. I missed you last night. How about I come get you and we go out to breakfast?

  Tweet: Maybe tomorrow.

  Me: Hey, are you okay?

  Tweet: I’m fine. I had my phone off. Will chat later.

  Me: What do you want to do for New Year’s Eve?

  Tweet: Nothing.

  Me: Can I come over? It’s been a few days since I’ve seen you.

  Tweet: No. I’m too tired.

  Me: I like laying around with you. :)

  Tweet: Not today Noah.

  Me: How about Chinese and a movie tonight?

  Tweet: I have my first chemo tomorrow. Not in a movie mood.

  Me: Tweet, what’s going on? Why won’t you let me see you?

  Me: You’re scaring me Tweet. I have an early class tomorrow, but then I’m coming over.

  I was completely blindsided and confused by Tweet. I hadn’t spoken with her since Christmas. Her parents and Emily were clueless as to why she wouldn’t talk to me and as the days passed, she rarely replied to my texts. I tried to be patient and understanding. I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes, having to deal with everything that was happening to her. If she thought she was doing me a favor by pushing me away, she was wrong. It wasn’t a matter of her needing me. I needed her.

  I didn’t wait for Emily to invite me in, instead I pushed my way through the door. “Where is she?”

  “Noah, she’s having a bad day.”

  “I need to see her, Emily.”

  “Now is not a good time. She’s very sick. The chemo hit her harder this week.”

  I walked farther into the condo. “I want to take care of her.”

  Emily moved, blocking my progress. “Noah, please go…”

  “No! She’s pushed me away since Christmas and I don’t understand why. I made her a promise that we’d get through this together. Please, Emily,” I pleaded.

  “I’ll go ask her, but if she doesn’t want to see you…”

  “Then I’ll go.”

  I lied.

  I followed Emily down the hallway to the bathroom. She glanced back at me before softly knocking on the door.

  “Manda, are you okay? Can I come in?”

  Tweet’s weak muffled voice answered, “Yes.”

  As Emily opened the door, I craned my neck, wanting to get a glimpse of Tweet, but it closed before I was able. I stayed on the other side of the hall, not wanting to eavesdrop. That lasted all of five seconds. I crossed to the bathroom, pressing my ear to the door.

  “Noah’s here and he wants to see you,” Emily said.

  “Emily…”

  “I told him you were sick, but… Manda, if you could see the look on his face. It broke my heart. He looks so sad and lost. He wants to be here for you.”

  “He doesn’t need to spend his life taking care of me.”

  “But I think he wants to.”

  “I want to go back to bed now.”

  I heard some movement and then a loud thud, followed by the sound of Tweet crying. I burst through the door to find her lying on the floor sobbing uncontrollably, Emily wiping her forehead with a wet rag. Tweet’s new prosthetic leg laid still attached to her, but off to the side, twisted.

  I scooped her up into my arms. She was limp and couldn’t stop crying as I carried her to the bedroom.

  Pressing my lips to her temple, I whispered, “I’ve got you, Tweet. I’ll take care of you.”

  Emily followed and stood in the doorway of Tweet’s room with tears running down her face. I gently placed Tweet on the bed and sat in front of her. My hands automatically touched her face, wiping the tears away with my thumbs.

  Her eyes barely stayed open, due to the tears gushing from them, as she chok
ed out, “I’m so ashamed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t do anything for myself anymore. Every part of my body feels sick. I just want to die.” Drawing in a shaky breath, she pleaded, “Noah, tell them to let me go.”

  Her sobs intensified so much, she had a hard time catching her breath. I heard Emily crying louder.

  My heart shattered seeing her this broken. There were no words to make her feel better in that moment. I couldn’t protect her from the fucking cancer. And she was pushing me away, not letting me love her.

  Please let me love you, Tweet.

  Shifting, I positioned myself behind Tweet. My arms snaked around her waist, her back securely pressed against my chest. Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I let my own tears flow.

  My lips grazed the shell of her ear as I whispered, “I can’t do that. I need you too much. Don’t you dare leave me.”

  We finally lay back and on our side, but never lost contact. When I woke up the next morning, we were still tangled together.

  Access to Tweet continued to be limited by her choice. I hated it but understood. Certain weeks of chemo hit her harder than others and she spent most of her time being sick or sleeping. I wanted to be by her side, but she insisted I wait to come over until she felt better. I continued to give her whatever she needed, so I didn’t force the issue. It was hard staying away. I texted and called several times a day, checking in on her. I also dropped by a few times a week. Occasionally, I got to see her, but most of my visits consisted of getting updates from Emily.

  The rest of my life was spent in class or at the library studying. Brooke and I were slowly disintegrating. Each time I approached the subject of taking a break, she’d interrupt, saying how happy and in love she was with me. By the time she finished her monologue, I felt too guilty to make the break. I never gave Brooke or our relationship a chance. I tried forcing myself, falling short each time. I cared about her and it wasn’t her fault that things between us weren’t progressing. My head had been telling me for years to move on from Tweet, but my heart never gave up on us.